


Endymion Waking

by KannaOphelia



Category: Historical Fiction (Ancient Rome), Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Ancient Rome, And then shagging in the private rooms, Attempts at Historical Accuracy in Porn, Falling in love across a crowded bathhouse, First Time, Loneliness, M/M, Meaningful Poetry Reading, Mutual Pining, Older Virgin, Porn with Feelings, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Romance, Sex Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26461846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/pseuds/KannaOphelia
Summary: Most days, the citizen with the black curls and blue-green eyes comes to the baths and watches Flavius, but makes no attempt to buy the services advertised on the frescoes outside the private bathing rooms.Most days, Flavius pretends not to watch in return. He has customers to please. He can't fall in love with a man who is too shy even to approach him.
Relationships: Roman Baths Exoltus | Adult male prostitute / Shy citizen (M/M Original Works)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 104
Collections: Classical Flash 2020





	Endymion Waking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mere_Mortifer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mere_Mortifer/gifts).



> Quick notes:
> 
> Flavius: golden-haired  
> Kaeso: blue-green eyes  
> Exoltus: an adult male prostitute rather than a youth  
> Hypnos and Endymion: Most of the legends of Endymion are of the goddess of the moon falling for his beauty and asking Hypnos/Somnus, the god of sleep, to trap him in eternal sleep so she could watch him forever. Gods are bastards. But in at least one Greek version, it is the god of sleep who falls in love with the youth, an enchants Endymion to sleep with his eyes open so his beauty can be fully enjoyed at night.
> 
> I made my best attempt at historical accuracy, but this is probably as full of fallacies and anachronisms as a Regency romance. Read at own risk.

Flavius tallied up his earnings. He decided he had earned the leisure to take a proper dip and soothe his aches in the communal bath, after rinsing the salient areas off in the hip bath in his rented private room. It had been a busy morning, and he was afraid taking on another client too soon might cause disappointment at his inability to summon proof of interest. It was true that some clients preferred that, but they tended to target the youths, not an _exoltus_ past their twentieth summer.

"Hello, darling." Tulla wallowed across to him in the warm water. Flavius slipped down to join her. She was a freedwoman who, like him, plied her trade independently in the baths these days. It was safer and more discreet than the brothels where they had been raised; in the baths they could hire the private rooms and meet regular clients. Tulla was more like an elder sister or aunt to Flavius than just a friend, and he suspected she was more and more employed for her natural sympathy and friendliness than her ageing physical charms. "Come to spy on our lone wolf again?"

Flavius floated back in the water, his lips twitching at the thought of the citizen in question being described as anything so fierce. There was something innately gentle of it. "Is he back?"

"Yes. And staring at you. Quick, can you float on your stomach and show off your pretty yellow curls and backside for him?"

"Nothing yellow about my backside, pumpkin," said Flavius. He worked, in a manner of speaking, at his bronzed tan. "Besides, maybe your mahogany hair is the appeal. He never seems to meet anyone. Or speak to anyone. Why assume Black Curls has a taste for men?" Flavius risked a peek, shadowing his eyes with his lashes. The mystery man was not looking at him. He never did. He never spoke to anyone or showed any interest in socialising, conducting any business, or making liaisons. He would arrive, be plucked and massaged and scraped, bathe, sometimes read, and then go home. Quiet, respectable and virtuous to the point of being highly suspicious.

"How do you know what he does?" Tulla had demanded once, and Flavius had flushed, unable to admit that he had bribed some of the slaves to keep an eye on him. Not out of any particular interest. It was just that Tulla kept bringing the man with black curls up and insisting he watched Flavius at every opportunity.

"I tell you, he's pining for you," she said now. "You just never catch him. Go talk to him. I'd bet my life he's rich."

"There's no need for me to approach him if he's _pining_. There's a very comprehensive range of services on the frescoes outside the private rooms if he's interested in my charms."

"Maybe he's shy."

"Of me?"

"You're very beautiful, you know." There was nothing teasing in Tulla's voice. "Could be intimidating, coming into a place like this to gaze on an Endymion like you."

Flavius shook his head, smiling slightly. "Nothing intimidating about me, my Tulliola. I'm known for my approachable manner."

He rolled casually over and looked up at the man with black curls. He was quite an ordinary-looking man, his body gleaming with oil that shone on the padding of fat at his waist, the thighs that were broad and not hard, the curves of his belly. Well-fed rather than an Adonis, himself. His only striking point was the luxurious black hair clustering softly around a serious face. He looked kind, Flavius supposed, as much as you could tell from a distance. Probably a scholar or merchant of some kind. Tulla was right, too. He looked rich and pampered.

For the first time, the man lifted his head and looked at Flavius. He was too far away to tell the colour of his eyes with any certainty, but Flavius couldn't help but notice the fact that his skin, already flushed red from the warm water, deepened in colour, the blush running down his neck and chest. Flavius smiled brazenly and invitingly, and the man's gaze skittered away, his hands twisting nervously.

"Told you," Tulla said. "He lurks around every time until he sees you. And you know it."

"Looking is free, I suppose," Flavius said. He wasn't sure if he was disappointed or... There was a strange curling flutter in his stomach, like anxiety or anticipation. Then the man with the black curls looked back, looked straight at him, and the corners of his lips turned up in a slight smile, and the curving flutter turned into the beating of a thousand butterflies in Flavius's chest. Then the man got up and left with a strange dignity.

Should he follow him? For a potential customer, he had made no sign of approaching Flavius. Maybe he had imagined the intensity of his interest, the sweetness of his smile, the warm flush.

"Hey, my Flave, put it away or sell it," said Tulla. "I don't understand how you can get so enthusiastic when you've been working so hard. You don't even use aphrodisiacs. Are you blessed by Priapus or something?"

"Useful trick of the trade," Flavius muttered. "Most don't care if I am hard or soft." He could see a tall handsome aristocrat, one of his favourite clients, across the room. Flavius inclined his head at the man, invitingly. If his cock was going to harden at a tentative smile, he might as well put it to good use. Still, he felt a little dazed.

What the hell had just happened?

* * *

On the way back to his rooms in his tenement, Flavius paused to watch some acrobats on the street, twisting their bodies in impressive ways, joking and amusing the audience as the drums played. An urchin slipped past him, dipping his fingers into the folds of the robes of the audience to seek out pouches and coins, and Flavius, having secured his own pouch with his hand, watched in some amusement. He used to earn a living that way himself, and he hoped the brat was cautious enough to escape detection. The targets looked wealthy enough that they would not go without bread for a lost purse, but also wealthy enough that they could make things difficult for a thief.

It was only when he recognised the glossy black curls of a potential victim that Flavius found himself snaking out a hand and catching the boy's arms. "Not that one," he hissed.

"Why?" The kid turned ingenuous eyes up to him.

Flavius couldn't find a reason. Because the man followed him around, and gazed at him? Because, in some irrational way, that felt like they were something to do with each other, had formed a bond in a glance? Ridiculous. He should not take the side of a wealthy citizen over a boy on the street.

"You got plenty," he said instead. "Go home while the going is good. If I noticed, anyone might."

The kid considered this, seemed to appreciate the good sense, slid his arm free and took off. Flavius heaved a sigh of relief.

The man with the black curls turned as if in response to the sigh, although he hadn't turned at the conversation. So his eyes were blue-green, Flavius thought irrelevantly, almost luminous in an olive-toned face. The crinkles around them looked kind. And his expression was... tender.

There was a repeat of that slight smile, and then the man looked away, turned away, and Flavius left, his heart beating faster for no good reason. He had no idea if the man had been aware of what was going on or not, and the thought that he might have might be listening to see what was happening, made nervousness and a strange anticipation quiver in him. When Flavius saw him again, perhaps...

* * *

The man with black curls didn't return to the bathhouse for nine days. When he did, he did not attempt to approach Flavius, and Flavius did not attempt to approach him.

"You're both as bad as each other," scolded Tulla over a game of brigands in the leisure room. "All lovelorn glances and no talking or fucking."

"Oh, shut it. I'm not lovelorn." Flavius thought of bright eyes and kind crinkles, a shy half-smile. He thought of them a lot. Shamefully enough, sometimes when he was taken he imagined broad thighs above him, blue-green eyes narrowed in passion. "Ridiculous. I just want to know what he's playing at."

"Hypnos watching over Endymion in his sleep, never daring speak. What a waste of time and effort."

Flavius moved his pieces. "I said, shut it, my love."

"Look, you're not getting any younger, my Flave."

"Speak for yourself."

"I mean it." Tulla sighed. "Look, you're doing all right here. But the older you get, the less time you'll be all right. I won't be working here forever. I'm all for convincing Spurius he needs to make me a nice respectable concubine and let me listen to his troubles in his own household and support his wife. And then what will you do in the baths without my company? You'll be lonely as a bereaved swan without his mate." Flavius frowned and didn't answer. "Find someone who is looking for a friend, and will want your charm and support even when your beauty dims. Also, I win." She made her final move and rose. "Talk to the man, if he won't talk to you. I've got my own gentleman to talk to."

Flavius looked up as she flounced off in the direction, and then he caught the gaze of his black-curled admirer across the room. Well, why not? The worst that could happen was the humiliation of rejection.

He gestured at the board. There was a long moment in which he was afraid Black Curls would flee. Then the man came forward, looking strangely anxious, and took Tulla's place at the board.

They played in silence. Flavius tried to keep his focus on the board, and not on the man across from him. _Why do you watch me and not speak?_ he wanted to say. _If Tulla is right and you want me, don't you know I'm yours for the renting? I wouldn't mind, you know._ He risked a glance at the man across from him, admired the full round arms, the softness of his neck, the kissable line of the mouth.

When they finished, the man, who had trounced him completely in the game, thanked him softly. His voice was nice, deep and velvety.

"You can call me Flavius," he blurted in return. Great. Flavius, the famous seducer, sounding like an adolescent courting a maiden.

That smile. A full smile now, blossoming slowly. "Ah, that is suitable. Like name, like nature. Your hair is like gold, if you don't mind me saying so."

"I brighten it with saffron," Flavius found himself admitting, and the man, unexpectedly, laughed. It was delightful. His face lit up, his neck showed a soft roll of flesh where it tilted. Flavius imagined pressing his lips to it and sucking a bite mark there. As if he could mark a customer.

"It's worth the effort, Flavius of the golden curls." There was warmth in his voice. "I enjoyed the game. Will—will you play again, one day?" He asked as if asking a great favour from an equal, not as if he was speaking to an _exoltus_ in the baths.

"Whenever you like," Flavius said recklessly. The man raised his eyebrow. "I can read to you, too. Or recite. Or..." He shifted his stance on his stool, spread his legs, titled his hips. "Anything you like. Absolutely anything."

The man looked terrified, as if he was going to flee, and Flavius spoke quickly. "Or just play." He smiled reassuringly. "I find your company peaceful."

The man with curls hesitated, as if on the brink of flight, and then said: "Kaeso. You can call me Kaeso."

"You are also well-named," he said softly, as if he thought this was the man's real name. "Your eyes are wonderful. I hope to see you again, Kaeso."

"You will." The man hesitated as if about to say something, then dropped a few coins onto the board, and left.

Flavius sat, turning the coins over in his hand. Enough to pay for all kinds of pleasures. Or, it seemed, a game of brigands to which Flavius had invited him. _Hypnos watching over Endymion._ But if Hypnos had _known_ Endymion was available... It made no sense at all.

* * *

The next few weeks were divided in Flavius's head into his normal life, where he ate and drank and attended to customers and went on with his everyday routines, and time with Kaeso, who would bathe separately, give Flavius time to earn his coin, then wordlessly invite him to read with him, drink and eat with him, play games, sit in the garden together. He would pay well for the time, but never show any indication that with the amount of silver he spent, he could do more with Flavius than spend time in the libraries and leisure rooms.

Flavius spent the time with him in a fog of feelings he couldn't sort out. He watched Kaeso's hands, pampered and beautiful, move stones and dice, he listened to the beautiful timbres of his voice, he dreamed about sinking his fingers into soft curls. And Kaeso looked at him like he was beautiful, precious, loveable, and yet made no move.

Kaeso did love board games, all games, and Flavius could feel his skills increasing to match. He loved poetry, and would read it to him, and history. With enough wine, he was more inclined to talk, and would tell stories of history and battles. He was a merchant, he admitted at last, and had married at fourteen, but his wife had divorced him many years ago and he had not yet remarried. He had no children, and intended to adopt a nephew as his heir. He spoke with the hesitating tones of someone long lonely, of someone who had forgotten how to speak of himself.

There were gaps in his story, things Flavius desperately wanted to know. Why would a wealthy man with no children not remarry? But Kaeso was educated and clever and, the more he relaxed, the more he talked. And sometimes those blue-green eyes would fix their gaze on Flavius in a way that made Flavius's desire remain hot and heavy, but made no move. Once or twice Flavius reached out to him, but each time Kaeso shied away, and Flavius knew not to press.

Yet he was sure Kaeso wanted him. The desire fell thick like incense between them, burning his lungs, filling his senses. He was unused to desiring, unused to being the one wanting, and even more unused to being thwarted. He hated it, and loved it, and it was intoxicating.

Kaeso kept well away from him in the actual bath, but Flavius became shameless about watching him, learning the fullness of his buttocks, the twin dimples in the small of his back above them. The girth of his arms, the curve of his calves. _Beautiful, he thought, forgetting he had thought the stranger ordinary looking at first._ Luxurious as Bacchus, but careful in his ways, restrained. Only the possibility of sensuality in the full lips, the soft skins.

Flavius's clients had little to complain of in those days. He had never been so ardent, yet so detached a cocksucker, as if chasing his own pleasure by filling his mouth and throat. On his spread knees, head buried in his forearms, he imagined that the hands holding him down were the fine plump ones of his strange merchant, the burning stretching drag of the cock inside him was the one he saw on Kaeso as he bathed, and for the first time in the many times he had been fucked he came untouched, long spasming streaks as he thought _Kaeso, Kaeso._

His customer was smug at his response and paid him more than usual. Flavius smiled and thanked him and thought, out of nowhere, _Kaeso would stroke my shoulders afterwards, kiss my neck, praise me and not his own stamina. Kaeso would want to embrace._ He had no reason to think such a thing except the expression in blue-green eyes and the gentle lines around a soft mouth, but he knew it in his heart, and was astonished at himself for craving such softness.

Flavius longed to talk it over with Tulla. She had less leisure these days. Working hard on Spurius. He wished her luck: Spurius was thin and harried and there was no little between him and his wife, but Tulla liked them both well enough and would be a soothing presence in their household. And stability for her. She needed to pursue her own future and not worry about his non-existent love affairs. But Flavius missed her, and he was keenly aware that if she moved into a respectable household, she would not be expected to have much time for an _exoltus._

Flavius spent far too much time lying awake wondering. Was the man a _cinaedus_ , secretly longing to be penetrated, and ashamed of the desire? A few of Flavius's patrons had that preference, one reason they chose him instead of slender youths, and paid him well for his discretion. Flavius should reassure him that what happened in the baths stayed in the baths, that it would be no reflection on his masculinity elsewhere. That Flavius would happily please him any way he wanted, bend himself over the carved couch in the private rooms for him or take him himself, suck his cock or caress him. He wouldn't think less of him for wanting to be the loved rather than the lover. He would... he would _hold_ him. If Kaeso wanted. Kiss his hair and his eyelids and hold him close.

Fuck, he was lost, he knew he was lost, had lost himself that first glimpse of blue-green eyes and gentle smile, and what was the result of giving his heart? A prostitute chastely playing tesserae and tabula with a client. Was this some other kind of game? Of course, it wasn't at all a bad way to make money, but Flavius would look at Kaeso when the man was focused over a choice in a game, and want to scream _why_?

At least he could ease the man's loneliness, he told himself. Bring smiles to that mouth, that was meant for smiling, for kissing, for poetry and talking. Be important to him that way. He _wanted_ to be important, to be a part of Kaeso's life. He fantasised about going home with him, being a secretary—as if he knew his letters!—a guard, a companion. A friend.

"Farewell, my dear boy," Kaeso said once, with such softness in his voice, such warmth, that Flavius said, "Kiss me when you see me."

They stared at each other for a moment. Flavius knew what he was asking. _Kiss me as an equal, as a friend._ He knew why he shouldn't ask this, and he did anyway. Kaeso said nothing, and left, and Flavius cursed himself as a fool.

He didn't expect to see Kaeso the next day. He had barely slept the night before, cursing himself, cursing Tulla for putting romantic thoughts into his head. So the man liked someone attractive to play games with. That was no reason to treat him as if Flavius could actually mean something to him.

Flavius was ugly the next morning, he felt, bags under his swollen eyes, skin breaking out in pimples with stress. Hardly worth going to the baths, asking people to pay for his dubious charms like this. He dragged himself there, and jumped every time he saw dark hair. In the end, despairing, he went to the library.

"Is that my friend?" said a deep velvet voice, and Flavius turned to be greeted with lips on his mouth, the kiss of friendship. Heat sang in his blood where the soft lips touched. He looked into a nervous dark face, and his heart joined his blood and skin in the singing. He could feel the disapproval in the room, and by the nervous set of Kaeso's eyes, he had noticed too, but still looked unwaveringly at him. Brave as a lion, in his gentle way.

"Yours," Flavius said, his own voice catching a little. Now, surely. But Kaeso didn't kiss him again and didn't ask him to take him to the private baths. He just smiled, his usual tentative smile.

"Shall I recite to you today?"

"Please." Kaeso took a couch, and Flavius sat by his feet. He knew which poem he wanted.

> Give me a thousand kisses,
> 
> then a hundred, then another thousand,
> 
> then a second hundred, then yet another thousand, then a hundred;
> 
> then, when we have performed many thousands,
> 
> we shall shake them into confusion in order for us to lose the count,
> 
> and in order not to let any evil person envy us
> 
> as no one will be aware of how many kisses have there been. 1

His voice faltered. "Kaeso, by all the gods, do you want any of my kisses?"

"Of course I do," Kaeso said gently, and picked up his own book. Before they parted, he kissed Flavius again, his lips lingering on the side of Flavius's neck, on his lips, then each eye, tenderly... and chastely. An odd kiss only because it was to an _exoltus_ and not a family member or business partner. Longing shot through Flavius, made his cock heavy with blood, and he looked, daringly, down. Kaeso was hard for him. Kaeso wanted him —

Flavius moved to grasp Kaeso's shoulders, pull him close and kiss him as a lover, but Flavius was slipping away again, as if escaping.

They kissed again on arrival the next day, and at parting, and Flavius found himself living for the kisses. It was not that he had not been kissed before, but there was something in the touch of the older man's lips, hesitant and longing, that made his heart turn over. _Give me a thousand kisses._ Let me go on my knees and use my own mouth to make you forget anyone but me, bathe you with my own kisses.

One day, a hard day, with customers he did not like, and the dice against him in the game, Flavius found himself saying, "You know what I do with other men?"

Kaeso stared at his own hands. "I'm not a fool. You have a list of services outside the door to your room, and I have heard rumours you do things not illustrated there."

"Do you _care_?"

"I would not think to interfere in your livelihood. Why should I care?"

It was too much, too cruel from a man who did not seem inclined at all to cruelty, and Flavius couldn't bear it. "You act like you are in love with me, but you don't fuck me," he said, bluntly.

"My dear boy, I wouldn't know where to start."

Flavius looked up, ready to laugh bitterly, and saw raw, desperate humiliation instead, Kaeso's gentle face unshuttered completely.

"You—you have had so many lovers," Kaeso went on, stumbling. "I am forty if I am a day, and I have never—"

"What about your wife?" Flavius asked blankly.

"She didn't—she never. She said the thought of touching someone so plain and unmanly turned her stomach, that..."

Fuck prosperity and scandal. Flavius knocked the board open in his eagerness to embrace Kaeso, press kisses against the lovely curve of his cheeks and chin. _Fourteen._ This man had been a boy, and... Flavius remembered all the things that had been said to him at fourteen, all the insults hurled at the son of a brother-born slave who was following in her footsteps. Worth nothing but their holes. But he _had_ had his mother before the plague had taken her, and Tulla who had taken him on when he was a toddler at her knee, and had never really questioned his value.

"You listened. You've never had a lover. Your house must be full of women—"

"Never cared for women or of youths. Used to dream of heroes and warriors." Kaeso's cheeks were burning, with humiliation or passion or both. "As if they would look at me,"

"I'm no hero or warrior, but I looked."

"I fell in love with you when I saw you help an old slave who had slipped on the wet tiles. You shone like Endymion, but you helped him up with as much care as if he was your grandfather. You smile like the sun. I thought it was enough to watch you sometimes. I told myself I was like Somnus, I don't need to touch Endymion, just watch you." Bloody Tulla, she always got things right. Sometimes he thought she had missed her calling as an Oracle. "But you invited me to play, and you are so _kind._ "

"I'm not kind at all. I'm greedy. And you've been breaking my heart without cause, my beautiful, darling..." Flavius peppered his face with kisses, knowing he shouldn't be doing this in a public room, not caring. If he stopped, Kaeso might change his mind.

Kaeso actually laughed at that. A small, bitter laugh. "As if someone like me could affect the heart of someone who looks like you."

"Come to my private room with me," Flavius pleaded. "Let me _show_ you. Want you so much." He took Kaeso's hand, moved it to where he could _feel_ his sincerity, and Kaeso's hand trembled and then clenched. His teeth were biting down on his lower lip, and Flavius was maddened by it, wanted to replace those small sharp teeth with his own. " _Please_ ," he said, hot and focused, and Kaeso lifted lust-dazed eyes to him and he knew he had won.

They were kissing before they were well into the private bathing room, kisses moving restlessly over each other's faces, warm and damp. Flavius pushed Kaeso against a wall, licked up his neck, cupped his hands around full buttocks and pulled him hard against him so that they could feel each other's heat and rigidity. "What do you want, my love?"

"You." And then, laughing ruefully, "I don't know."

Flavius kissed him properly then, long and deep, massaging his jaw gently to encourage it to relax, to let him swipe his tongue in, taste. His own desire rose hot and heavy, and he could _touch_ , run his hand over plush hips and dip between thighs to brush velvet skin. Kaeso gave a sound between a sigh and a growl and Flavius sucked hard on his tongue in response, pulling out a sharp sound, an uncontrolled buck of hips against his.

"Come sit down for me, love." He pulled Kaeso to the carved stone couch by the hip bath, unfastening and loosening both their robes along the way, dropping them. "Sit here." He knelt before him, drew his rounded knees apart. Kaeso was nicely formed, already fully hard, swollen and heavy. Eunuch or monster, Flavius would want him still, but lust flared at seeing his prick was fine and blood-flushed. Flavius touched carefully and gently, drew the silky foreskin back the rest of the way, following with the caress of his tongue.

" _Flavius!_ "

"Right here, sweet." Not that the beading fluid was sweet, it was bitter-salt, never entirely pleasant, but somehow different because it was _his_ Kaeso, and he had never felt possessive like this before. He could _drink_ Kaseo down as if he was dying of thirst. He ran his tongue up the ridge underneath, pressed against the heart-shaped depression, kissed the head again, let his hands knead the delicious dip inside the other man's thighs. "Do you want me to suck you? To fuck my mouth and throat? Pleasure you with my hands? Or to take me? Anything, Kaeso, just tell me. I'll make it good for you, I'll make it sweet."

Kaeso parted his lips, tried to speak, made a croak.

Flavius moved up without grace, no lovely graceful Endymion at all but a man made clumsy with desire, pressed himself in between his knees, devoured his mouth, trapped his erection against the firm soft plenitude of Kaeso's belly and rubbed it there so the other man could feel his desire. That was a mistake, it took all his self-control not to lose it, pursue his climax by selfishly rutting. This was Kaeso's first time. Flavius shouldn't be selfish with him in a way he wouldn't dare with another customer, just because Kaeso would let him. Would let him do anything...

He pressed his lips against the shell of the older man's ear. "Do you want me to fuck you, Kaeso?"

A whimper. He rewarded it with kisses pressed wetly against his ear and neck. "Don't worry, darling, you will love it. Make you feel so good, stretched around me, taking me in." Kaeso was trembling as Flavius climbed off. Flavius piled pillows around him, made the stone couch as comfortable as he could, pillows to support his belly, trying to avoid his own straining arousal leaking against his belly. "Turn over, love." His voice was thick in his own throat.

Kaeso turned, and Flavius found himself sighing, leaning down to kiss and nip at full rounded buttocks and fleshy thighs, stripped bare of hair in the preparation rooms. Touched those twin dimples with his tongue. He could come then and there, thrust himself between the soft thighs and spend. He breathed deeply, reminding himself, _make it good, make it perfect._

"You gorgeous thing," he breathed, and dipped his fingers into a salve kept on the edge of the couch. He spread Kaeso wide with his thumbs, pressed a finger against the entrance there. "All right, love? Feel good?" He circled and pressed inwards, to a gasp. "That's it, let me in, relax, welcome me home." For a moment he remembered his own first time, rough and painful, the tearing and tears, and by all the gods it wouldn't be like this for Kaeso, he'd show him how good it could be. He pressed his finger to the joint where it met his hand, feeling the soft silky heat past the clenching ring, and by the Gods his cock would be there soon enough. He struggled to move slowly, in and out, accustoming Kaeso to the feeling of penetration, to the sweet dragging pleasure of it, resist the urge to force himself in balls-deep and take. Concentrated on the noises he drew out of the other man, the helpless pleasure as he found the right place to brush and caress.

"Please," Kaeso said at last.

Flavius pulled away. "Get up."

"What?"

He dropped a kiss on a buttock, reassuring, transformed it to a fierce possessive bite instead. So easy to take a mouthful of lush flesh like this, sink in his teeth, suck it into his mouth. "You like to look at me, don't you? I want you to see me when I fuck you."

"Oh!" A short sound of surprise "Yes. Yes, my comely Flavius."

"Yours," he said, more a proclamation than a reassurance. He took a seat on the couch and lifted his legs up, conscious of his own strong muscular shape, the sheer size of his cock, how obscene it looked when he lay like this and it was arching up above him, dripping arousal onto his belly. Intimidatingly huge, he worried, but Kaeso's eyes on it were hungry and fierce. Blessed by the gods in general, he supposed, but what good was that? If the gods loved your beauty, all that was in it was death, suffering, transformation. He'd take this instead, blue-green eyes with pupils blown so wide they almost looked black, looking at him like he was a wonder, the humanness of mess and sweat and clumsiness and strange tenderness. He took the salve and stroked it over himself, closing his own eyes tight as his cock jerked and spattered droplets at the contact of his fingers, fighting himself back down. Was he a virgin himself, to come outside a man who wanted taking? "Come kneel above me."

Kaeso moved awkwardly onto the couch, straddling him above his thighs. His face was as flushed as his prick, breathless and longing, and Flavius places his hands on the man's hips and moved him with some tenderness until he could steady him with one hand and his cock with his other, making sure it pressed at the right place. Kaeso cursed at the blunt head, and the sound of the cursing from the shy refined mouth was like fire, Flavius had to hold himself back from ramming up. By all the gods in existence, he wanted to be balls-deep already, to force him down and make him take it, and at the same time, he could feel a terrifying burning tenderness. _I'll make it good._

"It's too much."

"It's for you, all for you. You can do this for me." That was the trick, whisper to him, hot intense whispers that made Kaeso make delicious sounds and press against the intrusion. He let go of Kaeso's hip so that he held his cock with one hand and folded his other back over Kaeso's, pulling in slow sensual strokes, spreading the pre-ejaculate back over him. Make him demented with pleasure and he would take the pain better. "Come, my love."

The moment of penetration, the head sliding through the ring of muscle clutching at it, was so intense that a sound like a shout punched its way from his gut. He had serviced men with _cinaedus_ tastes before and enjoyed it, but this, Kaeso's face distorted with pleasure and pain above him, was almost top. "That's it, that's it, come close." He pulled him down, watching the sight of his cock stretching the man wide, until he'd seated himself and all Flavius could see against him was that elegant cock and the black-furred balls. Kaeso fell forward slightly, and Flavius came up to embrace him, kiss his cheeks and eyes as he shuddered.

"Ready?" he whispered, and flexed his hips. Kaeso cried out, and there were tears on his cheeks. "Too much?"

"Perfect." And by all the gods, Kaeso was moving of his own will, fucking him back, riding him, murmuring praise and endearments. _Beautiful, darling, wonderful, love._

Flavius surrendered all thoughts of control, surged up again and again as Kaeso ground down, pushing as deep as he could, rejoicing at every grunt he pulled out, each slap of flesh. Those beautiful thighs kneeling over him (he would fuck those thighs one day, he promised himself, press them close together and sheathe himself in them) that parted mouth gasping words of love (he would stretch it around his cock, fill it with his taste), that elegant dripping prick that he would have inside of him... _My love, my love,_ he thought, tenderness gathering hot and tight in his belly and balls, and when he said it aloud Kaeso came, marking his chest in thick white streaks.

Flavius pushed up again, and again, willing himself to let go as Kaeso squirmed with oversensitivity, and finally felt his pleasure crease, fucking his own spend deeper into the man with his last desperate thrusts, thinking _mine, mine, mine._

He released his grip and fumbled Kaeso into his arms as he slipped from him, trading messy adoring kisses, and this was not something he had ever done before, clutching tight despite the mess and kissing. He looked up in wonder at that kind face, that sweet face, the tears in the wonderful blue-green eyes in the brown face.

"Did I hurt you?" He swept a tear from a cheek with his thumb.

"No. Yes. But that's not..."

Kaeso crushed him close again. They were sticky with sweat and spending, and he didn't care. "Let me soothe you," he said, reckless.

"What do you mean?"

Flavius rolled him gently over, moved back on his knees, and lowered his head to swipe his tongue where he had fucked, fluttering and caressing and cleaning his spend from inside him. Kaeso gave one shocked shivering gasp and then lay there, letting himself be licked and kissed where he must be sore and oversensitive. Trusting him. Flavius thought of telling him, truthfully, _I've never done this for anyone but you_ , and decided it would sound like a handy lie told to a customer. But he had to do _something_ with this burning tenderness, and this, this closeness and intimacy, felt right, felt adoring and without barriers.

He came up at last, and expected Kaeso to shy away after what he had done, but Kaeso kissed him unhesitatingly. The man might have been inexperienced but there was no prudishness about him. Flavius pulled him close, raked his fingers through the lustrous black curls, just as delicious on his fingers as he had imagined, held him tight while their breathing slowed and the feeling that the world had changed settled around him. Like there had been a wound of loneliness, something he had not even realised, that was healed with the affectionate arms around him, the body pressed to his, lips pressed against his neck in soft kisses.

Perhaps Aristophanes had the right of it about soul mates after all. There had to be some reason for this feeling of completeness after a simple human act of bodies together.

Eventually he pulled away, hot and messy, and helped Flavius to the hip bath. He bathed him carefully, with tender kisses, feeling sharp pride at how Kaeso's head lolled and his muscles relaxed, drunken with repletion. Took advantage of his freeness to press his lips against neck and shoulder and back and chest. Dried and dressed him as carefully as a body slave, and then washed and dressed quickly himself.

"You'll ache," Flavius said. "I'm sorry." But there was pride in that, too, that he would leave his evidence on Kaeso, evidence of his love. "You need to eat and drink, too, to restore your energy. Come with me." He led him to the rooms of the baths were there was food and water and wine, served and poured it himself, hazy with love and protectiveness. _Mine._

Kaeso was quiet, watching him with those extraordinary eyes as they ate and drank. Flavius wanted to ask: _will you be back tomorrow?_ He wanted to say: _come to the gardens with me, sit with your head on my lap, let me stroke your curls as I wish_. He wanted to say: _take me home with you._ None of them were possible. He was a bathhouse _exoltus_ , he had provided a service for the generous fees Kaeso spent on his company.

"My household will be expecting me home," Kaeso said at last. Flavius flinched, and Kaeso lifted a hand, stroked it down Flavius's jaw. "I want you to come home with me. I wish I had more to give you. I have coin and property enough, but I'm dull and inexperienced. You'll tire of me. But I can give you—I can offer you—" He stumbled, shy again, despite having had Flavius's tongue in his most obscene areas less than an hour before. "I can offer devotion." He closed his eyes and recited:

> "But Phoebus, his nine companions, the creator of the vine,
> 
> they made me as I am, and Amor, who gives me to you,
> 
> and unceasing loyalty, sinless morals,
> 
> naked simplicity, noble honour.
> 
> Not for me to satisfy thousands, I’m not a fickle lover:
> 
> you’ll be, for me, trust me, my eternal care.
> 
> With you, all the years the Sister’s thread might grant me,
> 
> partaking of life, and you’ll grieve at my death." 2

Kaeso's voice broke, and he looked away

Flavius took his hand from his jaw and cradled it in his, his heart beating loud in his ears. He rose and dropped to one knee in front of Kaeso, heedless of onlookers. " _I've_ had thousands of lovers."

"I know. You're impressively skilled." A smile flickered at the corner of Kaeso's mouth. "As far as I can judge."

"I'm not ashamed. I always gave satisfaction. I didn't hold them in my heart, and they didn't love me, but it was a fair bargain."

"I know." Kaeso squeezed Flavius's hand.

"Tell me you mean it. Tell me in your own words that I'll be your eternal care. If my face is scarred by illness or accident, if I lose my virility, if my curls fall out with age and my forehead shines with baldness. If I forget to be pleasing and agreeable and show my temper." He could feel the fear in his own words. "It's my job to be handsome and likeable, but—"

Kaeso actually laughed. "Do I think I would love you less if you were less than perfect? You are _always_ perfect to me and always will be. I want nothing more than to love you."

"Take me home, then. Keep me." Flavius kissed his hands. "I'll be yours if you have me. You'll be so loved, so cherished, I'll talk with you and read with you and wait on you and fuck you, and you can fuck me too, I would love that..."

"The question is, will _you_ have _me_?" Kaeso asked, his blue-green eyes very steady for once. "I don't want to buy you, dear boy. I can't compete if it's about that, so many men are willing to pay for your favours. You have already given me so much, you don't have to tie yourself to a dull, fat man when so many lovers are yours for the taking. But if you want me, I'm yours."

Flavius kissed him fiercely at that, swirling his tongue deep into Kaeso's mouth, letting the possessiveness drive his kiss until Kaeso gasped and yielded. "No one," he said, when their lips parted, "has ever wanted to be mine. For me to be theirs, yes, but that's not the same." He held Kaeso's hands even tighter. "I never _wanted_ them to belong to me before." He tried to feel words for the flurry of possessiveness Kaeso aroused in him, and fell back on, "I love you. I _will_ love you, always, if that's what you want. I'll be the most devoted companion."

Kaeso kissed the words out of his mouth. "My name," he said, "is Gaius Mescinius."

"You are _Kaeso_ ," Flavius said, "at least in private. For the blue-green eyes that looked at me."

The shy smile again. Would it ever be less shy? Only now he could kiss it. "I'd like that. Thank you for--for looking back."

"I always will," Flavius promised, and let himself be led as a companion out to the public baths.

* * *

1 Catullus 5 ↩

2 Ovid, The Amores, Book One Elegy III: His Assets as a Lover ↩

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for this request, Mere_Mortifier! I got a bit carried away for a flash exchange. ;) I hope you enjoyed it.


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